San Lorenzo

I dedicate this post to my good friend Brian P. Myers, who once had a pet egg named Lorenzo. Why? Because two days ago I visited Zinacantan, a community about 20 minutes outside of San Cristóbal, that was having a big party for the fiesta of San Lorenzo, the town's patron saint. I went for the afternoon to eat tacos, ride the ferris wheel, and play some carnival games with some friends. One of these friends is posh, a strong traditional liquor made from corn. I've known posh since I arrived in Chiapas; on Tuesday we spent some good quality time together. Meaning I got tanked. So tanked, in fact, that I couldn't really speak, or stand up for long periods of time. Well, I could speak. I just couldn't understand what I was saying. The good thing is, I was home safely and passed out in bed before 9pm. So the hangover wasn't that bad since I got a good night's rest. Cheers, Brian! This bender's for you.

Now, I don't want any of you to think that all I've been doing is partying, and being so drunk or hung over or whatever else that I haven't made a measley blog entry in nearly two months. I've actually been busy doing stuff. You know, stuff.

The Zapatistas released the Sixth Declaration of the Lacondon Jungle, a long document that describes where they are at, where the movement is at, how they view things in Mexico and the world, and unvails the "Other Campaign" they wish to develop among nonelectoral groups of the Mexican left. The EZLN red alert was lifted on July 15, and everyone is welcome to return to Zapatista communities and continue working on projects and what not. This means that I am now able to continue my bike repair work in the communities, a project on which I plan to embark next week.

Since mid July I've been doing a lot of translation and interpretation for individuals and delegations that have been visitng San Crisóbal. I first spent four days visiting rural health clinics with a paramedic/professor, Julie, and her son Alex, who are from Colorado. Julie hopes to provide emergency medical training to the health promoters that work at these clinics. The following week I was translating for a group of pastors from Wisconsin that was visiting INESIN, the Institute for Intercultural Studies and Investigations. The next group was made up of Unitarian Universalist pastors and seminarians from Meadville-Lombard University in Chicago. This delegation was arranged by one of the Peace House board members.

I traveled with this group to the community of Pacayal, a small town of about 500 people in the mountains close to the Guatemalan border. We were greeted at the community by a marimba band at a small ceremony. The group presented the community leaders with a small donation towards their health clinic project. The nearest health services are at least 2 hours away on bumpy, unpaved roads, and people with urgent yet treatable illnesses often die on the way.

The group slept all together in the school, and split up in pairs for breakfast and dinner with various families in the community. Most of the people here are coffee farmers, and probably live on less than the $45 pesos ($4) that make up the Mexican daily minimum wage. Many families have relatives working in Tijuana or the United States. It's a very poor community, but people are humble and generous.

We were given a tour of the clinic site, which now is only made up of a concrete foundtion with wiry strands of rebar jutting skyward. The community still needs to raise a lot of funds to complete the construction. A church youth group from Tuxtla Gutierrez, Chiapas' capital city, is currently fundraising for the community, and has a work trip planned for later this year. I'm considering returning to help out. Community members also gave us tours of the coffee fields - cafetales - and took us to the river that runs throught the mountains that surround the town.

On Sunday morning we split up into groups and went to church services. I joined the three other catholics at the small service up on the hillside. This church is nothing more than a tin roof supported by wooden posts, and as we sat through the ceremony, we were surrounded by the green vegetation of the jungle. As we prayed and sang, I watched chickens scratch through the underbrush, and could hear the singing and clapping coming from the livlier, more populous celebrations of the communty's Presbyterian and Pentecostal churches.

We spent a lot of time in the school yard playing with the children. One of our group was an elementary teacher from El Paso, and she organized soccer and basketball games with the kids Sunday afternoon. All the kids wanted to play at once, so the basketball games ended up being melees of 15 on 15. The kids spent more time struggling for the ball rugby style than dribbling and shooting. I must say that I took advantage of my height and size to streak down the court and lay in a basket a couple of times. After a while, I started picking up one of the five year olds to put him closer to the basket, you know, to give him an advantage. Soon, I had ten kids swarming me asking me to pick them up too. And they all wanted me to do it again. But we traded. After I picked them up, they all mobbed me, grabbed my legs and hefted me off the ground. From then on I had my own fan club of 5 year olds sitting on the sidelines and cheering my name: "Simón! Ra! Ra! Simón! Ra! Ra!" Hopefully all the attention didn't go to my head.

It is definitely a challenge to come to know people who are so welcoming, yet so poor, with such great need. Some families and community members made direct requests of money or gifts for themselves when we ate at their homes, or while we visited with them at the school. It was a difficult thing for us to deal with. Obviously, as Americans, we are all wealthy compared to them. And it seems that some people have become accostomed to receiving gifts or cash from other visitors to the community. While talking to one young man, he asked me if an older member of our group was "Señor Billete." I didn't know what he meant. He was asking if the guy was "Mr. Money Bags." "Mr. (dollar) Bills" would be the direct translation.

Despite these challenges, I enjoyed the visit to Pacayal. Some of the group members left with intentions of raising funds and seeking grants to help the health clinic project move forward. I plan on returning to help with the clinic construction if I can.

Since returning to San Cristóbal last week, I have been working on the Peace House August newsletter and saying good bye to a few departing friends. The House itself is pretty empty, as most of our summer volunteers were unable to make it down here for various reasons. Because of this, I became the House Representative to the board of directors last month. All this has meant so far is that I get more emails. But I get a backstage view of all the inner workings of the organization, so that's pretty cool.

Last week I got some good news. First, my uncle John Allen didn't get arrested when trying to steal a painting of a naked woman from the men's room at the reception hall where my family was celebrating my cousin David's wedding. Way to go Jashu! And, more importantly, my brother Ian got engaged to his girlfriend Joanna. (All together now: "Awwwwwwwwwwww!) By all accounts, they are happy in bling-bling land. Congratulations and much love to you both!

Hopefully I'll be updating the blog monster a bit more frequently over the coming weeks. Check back soon! I'm gonna see if I can get some pictures posted here.

Peace! And may San Lorenzo of the soft-shelled eggs shine light upon you all!

Amen.